


The Dragon Prince and the Recluse

by Lady_Mischievous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Character Growth, Character Study, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Guilt, Tags and ships will change and grow as the story does, Wrathion is a brat...at first.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mischievous/pseuds/Lady_Mischievous
Summary: It took a bit of work on Khadgar's part to convince Medivh to let the 'dragon prince' stay in his home. Wrathion isn't sure what to make of Karazhan, the ghosts within, or her reclusive master. He heard stories of Medivh, a guardian of Azaroth who fell from grace. Even his father was quite wary of the mage yet Wrathion is far from impressed.A Guardian is meant to protect Azeroth, not lock themself away in self-exile.Edit: Revamped Chapter 2!
Relationships: Wrathion & Medivh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a particular quest in WoW where the players learn of what Wrathion has been up to in recent years and RPs me and my friend have been working with. Not fully sure where things will go just yet but feedback and such would be much appreciated.

_It has been days since Khadgar had arranged for me to stay in Karazhan. Unfortunately, the Archmage had to return to Dalaran to attend to some trouble that started up during his time away. This has left me to my own devices in the tower. There are many ghosts in this place, even the lingering spirit of the Last Guardian himsel--_

“I am _not_ a ghost.” Medivh drawled. He was very much alive and lounging on his favorite couch of his private study. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Wrathion, who had been writing in his journal, blinked before looking at the Magus. “How did you--”

Medivh answered by pointing to something above the dragon pup. Looking up, Wrathion spotted a raven that had perched itself on a nearby bookcase. It had a clear view of what he was writing in his journal. Of course, Medivh would be able to peer through the eyes of his precious birds. The raven croaked at the dragon prince before taking off and flying across the room. Wrathion watched as the large bird landed on the back of Medivh’s couch. The Magus reached over and gently scratched the raven, the bird gave a couple of soft, pleased clicks in return.

“Being a little paranoid, aren’t you?” Wrathion asked while quirking a brow. “I’ve been here for a few days, it’s not like I’ve tried to kill you in your sleep or anything.”

“No, but we both know that to even _try_ would be a fool’s errand.” Medivh said bluntly. His gaze then locked onto the prince and glowed ever so dimly. “But you _did_ try to put sleeping potion in my tea and wine a few times. Which I suggest you don’t do again, there’s only so many times I can talk Moroes out of killing you.”

“Maybe you should have better control over your servants.” Wrathion said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“And maybe you shouldn’t be trying to poison the person that’s _letting you stay in their home_.”

“Why are you acting like you’re being generous?” Wrathion scoffed. “You’re only doing it because Khadgar asked you to!”

“I didn’t have to say ‘yes’ at all, you _scaly cat_!”

“I’m not a cat!”

“You act just like a foul-tempered cat!” Medivh shot back.

“Oh yeah?! Then you act like a pigeon!”

“Joke’s on you, pigeons are cute!”

“Oh yes, they’re especially cute _in pies_!”

“You little monster!”

Moroes walked in with a tray of tea and snacks just as the argument was reaching a crescendo. The undead Castellan paused and took a second to listen to what the two were arguing about this time. Moroes drew a breath through his nose (out of habit, since he didn’t truly need to breathe) and released it as a dramatic sigh. Moroes then cleared his throat loudly enough to signal he was standing there. “Master Medivh…”

Medivh’s words died in his throat the moment he heard the castellan addressing him. He looked at Moroes and tried to regain his composure. “Yes, Moroes?”

“I’ve been talking things over with Doc and we’ve both decided that enough is enough.” Moroes said in a firm, almost parental tone. He took a moment to set the tray he brought down on a table before continuing. “You shan’t hide away in your study any longer, it’s incredibly unhealthy.” 

Medivh’s mouth formed a firm line as though he was about to protest but held back. “And what would you have me do?”

“You are going back on a _proper_ schedule.” Moroes tone was stern and made no room for argument. It was going to happen whether Medivh liked it or not. “You need some order in your life, you can’t just hide in your study _for nearly a month_.”

“Years, actually.” Medivh corrected him.

It was true, the Guardian had converted his study into a living space after the third war. He only left it under a disguise when he needed supplies. Medivh was truly a hermit and he _hated_ it but his self imposed exile was his punishment to himself. Karazhan’s distortion of time was infamous, hours, days, and months could easily meld into each other or stretch out to a crawl. Add that with how well Medivh’s Study was protected ended up with the Guardian becoming disconnected from the world, including that of his own tower.

Occasionally Medivh would catch up on the current happenings of Azeroth. Much of it only led to deeper bouts of depression. Everything he had tried to set into motion during the third war had failed or was undone. His actions ultimately had little impact in helping anything or even made things even wors--

“That’s even worse!” Moroes piped up, startling Medivh out of his chain of thought. “No more! Starting tomorrow, you are going to follow a schedule, have a better diet, and get your life back together!”

Wrathion laughed at the sight. To see the Last Guardian of Trisfal so whipped by his own servant was hilarious. Medivh clearly had no control over Moroes, not like how Wrathion had proper control over his vassals like Left and Right.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, you’ll be partaking in this as well, Young Wrathion.” Moroes drawled.

Wrathion’s laughter died then and there. “W-what?! No! That’s a waste of my time!”

“No, wasting time is antagonizing the Maiden of Virtue and working her up into a fit.” Moroes shot back. “A waste of time is sneaking down into the kitchen and switching the labels of sugars, salts, spices, and sauces!”

“That was disgusting.” Medivh pulled a face at the memory. The taste of that meal was something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“No, idle hands are a demon’s tools.” Moroes said as he crossed his arms. “You cannot be trusted to be left to your own devices.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Wrathion huffed. “I--”

“You are a _guest_ in _my_ home.” Medivh cut him off. “Moroes is second to me in the pecking order here in Karazhan. If you wish to stay then you will respect him.”

Wrathion fell silent. Quietly he weighed the pros and cons of leaving the tower and taking his chances out in the world. The factions were at each other’s throats and his agents had been finding more and more evidence of Old God activities. It simply wasn’t safe out there. Regardless if he was the son of Deathwing, Wrathion was still just a pup. He _needed_ something _powerful_ for protection and what more perfect than the Guardian of Azeroth?

Unfortunately, Medivh Aran couldn’t protect a pet mana wyrm from the blades of adventurers, let alone a dragon prince. He was a depressed man who was haunted by his failures, his legacy, and the ghosts of his own tower. Still, it was better than nothing and the tower itself seemed to hide Wrathion’s presence rather well. It was a safe haven, for the time being at least. Surely the agents of the void would eventually find him but while he was in Karazhan he’d use its resources to his advantage. 

If Wrathion had to play along with the games of the tower’s denizen’s for a little while, then so be it.

- **End of Chapter 1** -


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to being unsatisfied with how I originally handled chapter two, I went back and gave it an overhaul. I hope you will enjoy this updated version!

“Young Wrathion…” Moroes said, his tone wasn’t harsh but still firm. “...it is time to wake up.”

Wrathion was situated on very comfortable pillows in what was a reading corner in Medivh’s study. It was perfect for lounging and could easily serve as a second bed. The dragon prince made no move to get up. Instead, he pulled the blankets closer to himself as he curled up into a ball. Moroes quirked a brow at the action before leaning in and gently shaking him. Again, Wrathion was being stubborn and batted the old castellan’s offending hand away.

Moroes frowned and gave a soft sigh before looking towards Medivh who he had woken up earlier. “Master, would you be so kind as to produce a chunk of ice for me?”

Medivh was sitting up on his bed-couch, running a brush through his long, dark hair. He stopped when Moroes made the request and held up a hand with his palm facing upwards. Moisture from the air gathered into his palm and crystallized into a small orb of ice. Medivh then tossed it to the waiting Moroes, who caught it with ease. The raven-mage then quietly returned to brushing out the tangles from his soft hair. A sudden, loud ‘yelp’ and string of curses made Medivh wince and bite his lower lip to contain his laughter.

“What is wrong with you!?” Wrathion snapped. “I don’t want to wake up! I want to sleep!”

“I told you yesterday, you are to join the Master in the routine I have scheduled.” Moroes reminded him, not phased by the outburst one bit. Having handled outbursts and episodes from both Medivh and his mother, Moroes could weather anything Wrathion could throw at him. “Now is time to freshen up and get dressed. Breakfast will be served in the banquet hall at eight o’clock sharp.”

“Just bring breakfast up here!” Wrathion huffed.

“No.” Moroes said with a tone of finality. “It’s time to leave the study, you two are to go down to the banquet hall, eat and get a little socialization in. Then it’s posture practice leading into dancing, music, or acting practice. The choice is up to you which. Then--”

“But  _ why  _ should we do  _ any  _ of that?” Wrathion huffed, his ruby-red eyes glowed slightly and there was a slight growl in his voice. "Guardian! Reign in your servant and tell him to go away!"

He looked to Medivh, hoping the Magus would also have his qualms with the idea. Instead, he saw Medivh was already out of bed, having stripped naked from his night clothes. He was dressing himself in a loose-fitting poet’s shirt and a pair of comfortable trousers. Not needing to see any more of Medivh’s nakedness, Wrathion quickly turned his head away. His cheeks had flushed red from a sudden rush of embarrassment. Growing frustrated, Wrathion reached for the quilt that had kept him warm in the drafty study. He had every intent to lay back down and go back to sleep.

“Now, now, that's enough of that. You've had all night to sleep and I won't have either of you sleeping until noon without good reason.” Moroes said while snatching the blanket away before Wrathion could get ahold of it. “You are wasting your time if you think you can argue with me. If you insist on staying up here then you’ll simply won’t get the chance to eat until lunch.”

At that moment, Wrathion could feel his stomach gurgle in protest. As much as he wanted to be stubborn, the thought of starving most of the morning made him think twice. It couldn't be helped. “Fine.”

-o-o-o-

The banquet hall had seen better days but was in much better shape than it had been in recent years. Since Khadgar’s return and Medivh leaving his study, there were efforts being made in restoring the tower. Moroes was grateful for the help, it warmed his heart at seeing the tower in a more livable state. It was made all the better with Medivh seated at the Master’s table with Wrathion and his companions ‘Left’ and ‘Right’. Odd names perhaps but who was Moroes to judge with his own name?

Other denizens of the tower tried to enter the hall to join them. Moroes kept them at a distance and would turn them away. Each tried to call out their greetings to Medivh, who would offer a weary smile and wave in return. There was Attumen, the tower’s huntsman, who had been kind enough to bring in a boar for dinner from the neighboring forests. Barnes, the leader, and playwright of the performance troop who made the grand theater into their home. Even Netherspite left the lab in the higher reaches of the tower to say hello. He was a specter of a blue dragon who would research portal technology and magics alongside Medivh.

Wrathion watched from his seat at the master’s table. One would think that seeing so many ghosts would have been a chilling affair instead there was a warmth in it. They greeted Medivh like a beloved friend. Perhaps there was a bit of envy on Wrathion’s part though he would never say it aloud.

Before he could think any further on the thought, Wrathion’s attention was caught by the sound of laughter. Turning to look, he was greeted by the sight of Left gladly allowing Medivh to feel her bicep. Right watched the pair and was actually smiling, a rare sight given how serious she was. The three of them had been talking for a while, Wrathion had tuned out their words as white noise. What he last remembered them talking about was Pandaria, which greatly interested Medivh. Somehow it had clearly evolved into flirtations.

“Are you seducing  _ my  _ guards?!” Wrathion said, aghast at the Magus’ boldness.

“I’m having breakfast in the company of strong and intelligent women.” Medivh said with an amused smile. “I would say that I’m just as charmed.”

“Well stop being charmed and stop being charming!”

“That’s a bit difficult.” Medivh said with a smirk and a shrug. “I’m afraid that’s just how I am.”

“Right, Left, just go sit somewhere else!” Wrathion snapped with an annoyed huff.

Medivh’s amusement faded as he watched Wrathion’s trusted bodyguard reluctantly remove themselves from the master’s table. It wasn’t lost on him that Wrathion’s little outburst was a bit like a child’s tantrum. Medivh’s mouth formed a firm line at that thought. Wrathion was a bit of a puzzle, he was quite intelligent but lacked the maturity to match it. He couldn’t quite place why this detail bothered him as much as it did. It felt  _ familiar _ and Medivh didn’t like it.

Rather than dwell on it, Medivh said nothing and continued to eat his breakfast. The light air that surrounded the master’s table earlier was replaced with a quiet awkwardness.

-o-o-o-

The ballroom was a much-loved room of Karazhan. While it too was gradually being repaired, it was still a sight to behold with its colorful stone dance floor. If one stood there long enough and listened to the quiet, they might hear distant music, laughter, and revelry. This was where Wrathion and Medivh’s day started with ‘posture lessons’ given by Moroes. According to the loyal castellan, Medivh’s  _ atrocious _ reclusive lifestyle had given him the posture habits of a gremlin. While Wrathion clearly never had a day of posture training in his life.

“Shoulders back and head pointing forward.” Moroes commanded. His voice held a tone that compelled whoever heard him to obey. “No looking at the ground, keep your heads held high.”

The lesson was full of simple exercises and walking from one end of the room to the other. Wrathion was clearly annoyed the entire time. But whenever he tried to escape Moroes was always quick in catching him. From the way he moved to how he knew whenever Wrathion would attempt to escape, it was clear he was more than a simple servant. The dragon prince had no choice, he begrudgingly did the exercises and drills.

“Young Wrathion, you are a prince, show more pride in yourself. Shoulders back.”

“They  _ are  _ back!”

Medivh made no complaints throughout the lesson and even tried warning Wrathion against trying to escape. In his younger years, he would have attempted the same kind of antics. It was amusing to watch Wrathion try to get one over on Moroes. He was outmatched and outclassed by the castellan’s years of experience as a rogue and in handling difficult people. Medivh had to wonder if that was how he looked all those years ago.

The Magus’ thoughts were cut short when he felt the feeling of eyes on him. Looking over his shoulder he could spy someone familiar peering in from the room’s entrance. It was Barnes, who barely made any attempt to be all that sneaky. The ethereal playwright wiggled his fingers in a small, excited wave hello.

“Barnes!” Moroes snapped, startling everyone. “I told you to wait, dancing practice isn’t for another hour.”

Barnes walked into the room and gave a sheepish smile. “Oh, Moroes, I couldn’t wait! I just had to come here to see him! You wouldn’t let us even say ‘hello’ at breakfast this morning. It’s terribly unfair, he’s a good friend to me too.”

“This is  _ supposed _ to be done bit by bit.” Moroes said while rubbing his temples. “I’m trying to follow a schedule to make this easier on Medivh.”

“But  _ why _ be so gentle though?” Barnes asked with a roll of his eyes. He began to stroll towards Medivh. “Just rip the bandaid right off and let things heal all at once!”

“That’s  _ not _ how trauma works!” Moroes countered. He stepped into Barnes’ path to block him from going any further. With a look to Wrathion and an impish wink he went ahead and passed through Moroes and continued on his way. “Confound it! Would you just listen!?”

Barnes hurried over and pulled Medivh into a tight hug. The solidness of the specter took Medivh off guard. He reached up a hand and lightly pat his old, undead friend on the back.

As Wrathion watched the pair, he could clearly see how uncomfortable the mage looked. Medivh was usually a hard man to read but at that moment all of his defenses were down. It was when Barnes finally pulled away from him that Medivh tried to regain some form of composure. He forced a smile that wasn’t fooling anyone except for the spectral playwright.

“I-it’s...been so long, Barnes…” Medivh managed to force the words out.

“I know, hasn’t it?” Barnes said, either completely missing Medivh’s discomfort or choosing to ignore it. One really couldn’t tell with him. “I would say that I’ve been  _ dying _ to see you again but I’m already dead!” Barnes gave a laugh at his own ‘clever’ pun.

“Yes…” Medivh said, his smile was starting to crumble. “Yes, you are…I killed you.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t  _ you _ …” Barnes said with a small wave of his hand like he was shooing away the idea as if it were a pesky fly. “...It was the massive blast of fel energy that went off throughout the entire tower. Scorched everyone and everything in the theater, my body was disintegrated into ash. I didn’t suffer for too long but I still wouldn’t recommend it.”

While Barnes’ words may have meant to help his friend feel a little better about the situation, it clearly didn’t work. Medivh looked away from him, his gaze growing blank and distant. He was dissociating then and there. Wrathion had to wonder if the mage had astral projected himself somewhere out into the Nether.

As amusing as it was to watch Medivh be knocked down a few pegs, it was also quite odd. To Wrathion, the interaction seemed like it was almost physically painful for him. It didn’t fit what he had come to know of the Magus so far. Medivh didn’t take any of Wrathion’s sass, he was usually quick with a counter or retort. He was firm and would put his foot down if he didn’t like something that Wrathion was doing. Yet with Barnes and Moroes, he was incredibly tolerant and patient. Wrathion had to admit, if he was in Medivh’s position, he would have snapped.

The loud sound of something hitting the ground and a surprised yelp from Barnes shook Wrathion from his thoughts. It seemed his theory on Medivh’s astral projection escape might have been correct. The Magus had collapsed and was unresponsive to Barnes’ who was desperately shaking of him.

“Moroes! Please help!”

The faithful Castellan hurried over to assist which left Wrathion completely unsupervised. Making the most of the distraction, the dragon prince backed towards the closest exit and fled the ballroom.

Wrathion bolted, moving as fast as his legs could carry him. He had to keep moving and put as much distance behind him before Moroes realized he was gone. The mental image of the corpse-servant catching up to him with unnatural speed was enough to spur him on. The large corridor that he had been running through stretched on and on almost like it had no end.

That was when a thought occurred had occurred to the princeling. They never used this corridor to enter the ballroom, there should have been a set of stairs. Wrathion’s run began to slow as the muscles in his legs demanded him to stop. As he finally came to a halt and tried to catch his breath, he took a moment to look around.

The corridor wasn’t normal. It was far too ‘new’ compared to the rest of the tower. Even Medivh’s study, as better shape as it was, had a certain ‘lived-in’ quality to it. The corridor was unnaturally pristine, not a speck of dust or a single cobweb. It was one intricately carved stone arch after the other with a black and white checkered floor that stretched on into forever.

Wrathion felt a chill crawl up his spine as goosebumps rose from his skin. Clearly, there was no one else with him there but he didn’t feel like he was alone. Eyes, how many he couldn’t tell but it felt like he was being watched, studied from all sides. As if the tower itself were a cat perched in the shadows, watching and waiting for Wrathion’s next move. He turned on his heels with every intention of returning to the ballroom. He would promptly apologize, accept any penalty Moroes would give just so he wouldn’t be in that corridor, or whatever it truly was, any longer.

Instead, he was met with a dead-end, a wall where a large, old portrait was hung. The woman displayed had an eerie resemblance to Medivh. They had the same, poisonous green eyes and very similar faces. Medivh was ‘softer’ than this woman though. He could smile and look pleasant where the woman seemed a tad cold. Medivh’s hair was also the complete opposite. His was thicker and more curly, dark as night and wasn’t as long. While the woman’s hair was blonde and smooth. Day and night, they were different yet the same.

It was then that Wrathion’s ears perked up, catching the sound of something distant. Voices, almost like whispers. For a second, Wrathion feared it was the mumblings of the old gods but as he listened they were clearly not insane ramblings. No, these words were a conversation and as Wrathion listened, the clearer they became.

_ “When are you going to understand...?” _ it sounded like Medivh but younger and nowhere near as exhausted.  _ “I am  _ **_not_ ** _ her!”  _ He sounded frustrated and grew more distressed with each word. _ “I don’t have all the answers, I barely know what I’m doing!” _

Something in the younger Medivh’s voice struck a chord with Wrathion though he was uncertain why. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so much uncertainty as it was his own stubbornness. Wrathion’s chest felt a little tight, he bit his lower lip and tried to swallow down whatever emotion was just stirred.

_ “I never wanted this...” _

A chorus of whispers rose up and seemed to be coming from all around him. It was no longer just young Medivh anymore but many other voices, some Wrathion recognized others he didn’t. Fragments of voices from the events of the past swirled around him changing from one to another faster and faster.

“Stop it…” Wrathion closed his eyes tight and covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear or see any more of what Karazhan was tormenting him with. “...Shut up!”

The whispers stopped as suddenly as they started and a soft breeze blew against him. Slowly, Wrathion opened his eyes and lowered his hands. The wall and portrait were gone, in their place was a dark space. It was as if Wrathion were staring into the mouth of a cave but the void inside was as dark as ink. Another breeze blew against him, followed by the deep, rumbling of a growl.

It wasn’t the wind, something was in the darkness breathing.

Wrathion bristled at that realization. He took a step back but then stopped himself. It had to be another of the tower’s tricks. They were illusions, nothing more, nothing less. With that thought, Wrathion drew in a breath through his nose and released it in a sigh to calm himself. There was nothing that Karazhan could show him that could shake him.

That was when light began to glow from the darkness of the room. At first, it was like the embers of a dying fire, glowing and dulling rhythmically, gradually growing brighter. Soon enough the ember-like light was far brighter with each pulse. It surpassed the brightness of fire and brought with it a sweltering heat. It was contained in something. Something metal, perhaps a furnace, but it was barely able to contain it as he heard the groans and creaks of it straining. 

Wrathion then heard movement. The sound of large, clawed talons clacking and scraping against the tiled floor with each heavy step. It was when a pair of red, glowing eyes appeared above the ‘furnace’ that Wrathion realized what or rather  _ who _ he was seeing.

-o-o-o-

“I am terribly sorry, Master…” Moroes said as he paced back and forth. “...I must be getting rusty. I turn my back for just a moment and he runs off.”

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for Moroes, I’m the one who distracted you.” Medivh admitted before running his fingers through his own hair and giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t handle that situation well at all.”

“Admittedly, it wasn’t one of your best moments but Barnes did force that situation onto you.”

“He did, I fled, and then this mess happens.” Medivh said as he watched the other denizens of the tower help in their search.

After Wrathion’s disappearance was noticed, Moroes demanded that Barnes help. The spectral playwright wasted no time and hurried off to ‘rally the troops’ as he described it. It was quite effective as the ghostly and undead denizens of Karazhan were scouring high and low for the missing dragon prince.

“Young Wrathion will cause some mischief but it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Moroes said confidently.

“That may not be the only issue we need to worry about.” Medivh said thoughtfully. When he came back from his astral projection trip, something felt a little off. It was the same kind of feeling Medivh would get after Khadgar came to live with them when he was a teenager. “The tower may have taken some interest in him.”

“You think so?” Moroes had a slight look of concern on his face. “Well, that’s going to be a pain in the rear to deal with.”

Before Medivh could say anything more, there was a loud crash and clattering that made him jump. He and Moroes looked over to the sound of the noises and saw something large and dark scrambling out one of the halls. Clearly, it was draconian and young as it was the size of a large dog. They hissed and spat as they were chased by a few of the spectral guardsmen.

“ _ That’s _ Wrathion…?” Medivh said as his head canted in a bird-like way, looking truly perplexed. “But he’s just a…” A look of realization dawned upon Medivh. Wrathion’s impish nature, his bouts of immaturity that bordered on being tantrums. Wrathion was just a pup, a child by dragon standards. Medivh felt angry but he took in a deep breath and slowly released it to calm himself. “Khadgar, what were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“You know…” Moroes began with a small smirk. “...He reminds me a little of you after you woke from that long coma.”

Medivh looked at Moroes with a frown, a blush rose in his cheeks. He then spoke with an indignant huff: “I was never  _ that _ bad.”

“Oh?” Moroes’ smirk grew and turned into an amused smile. “Is  _ that _ what you think?”

Medivh could feel his face burning, he could only imagine how red he looked. He wasn’t about to agree aloud but Moroes may have had a point. Before Medivh could say anything more on the matter, there was another loud crash followed by shouting.

“We need to calm him down or he might hurt himself.” Medivh said as hurried on ahead towards the commotion.

When he arrived onto the scene he found Wrathion had been backed into a corner by the ghostly guards of the tower. He hissed and snarled at them, his scales bristled as he tried to make himself appear bigger. Scorch marks riddled the floor and the guards hid behind their shields. One of the guards looked over their shoulder and noticed Medivh approaching.

“Sir, stay back this is dangerous. This dragon is--”

“My personal guest.” Medivh cut them off before they could finish. As he approached the guards backed away, giving the Magus room. Any discomfort Medivh would have felt was absent as his focus was solely on the trembling Wrathion. “Stand down, I’ll take things from here.”

While the guards still seemed uneasy about the situation they did as the Magus asked and began to leave. Moroes stood by at a distance watching the scene unfold. It was both as a precaution and out of curiosity as to what Medivh planned to do.

Trouble was, Medivh was at a loss. It was clearly a delicate matter, Wrathion was trembling, still rattled by whatever happened. Medivh chewed lightly on his lower lip as he tried to think. Cautiously, he stepped a little closer, slowing to a halt when Wrathion gave a small growl. Medivh mentally prepared a barrier spell to throw up in case things got out of hand. Slowly, he sat himself down onto the cold stone floor in front of Wrathion. Ruby-red eyes watched him carefully as Medivh settled himself down.

They sat there for a while, how long exactly, neither of them knew. Medivh sat, waiting patiently for the dragon to come down from his panic. Slowly, Wrathion’s shivering stilled and his breathing evened into a more relaxed pace. He shifted back into his human form, still looking a little tense.

Wrathion looked away from the Magus, his cheeks burned as embarrassment washed over him like a wave. He couldn’t tell what Medivh was thinking but given their clashes up until that point, he had a guess. “Are you going to laugh at me?”

Medivh canted his head curiously, looking much like one of his beloved birds. “No?”

Wrathion gave him a skeptical look and waited a moment to see if the mage was going to start laughing. Medivh offered a faint smile and stayed silent. Wrathion frowned a little, not sure how to take this behavior. Was it patronizing? Actual concern?

“Your tower is stupid.” Wrathion said, finally breaking the silence. It sounded immature but it was all he could think to say at that moment. 

“To be fair, running off in a magical tower in much need of repair was not the best of ideas either.” Medivh countered. He looked upwards, his eyes taking on a subtle glow. Magic symbols that only he could see appeared on the walls and ceiling. Medivh could see they were deteriorated and faded. “I’m going to have to work on the wards, so that doesn’t happen again. You’re someone new, the tower’s likely keen on teasing you.”

Wrathion thought back to the portrait, the voices and the vision of Deathwing that had terrified him so much. “Did it ever happen to you?”

Medivh was quiet for a moment, his eyes shifting away from Wrathion. “...Yes, it did.” He then began to get back up onto his feet. He looked down at Wrathion and offered a hand to him. “And Moroes, and Cook, and Khadgar, as well as many others. You’re not the only one and you won’t be the last.”

Wrathion eyed the offered hand. He waved it away before getting up on his own and dusting himself off. “I’ll warn you not to underestimate me, Guardian.”

“ _ Ex _ -Guardian.” Medivh corrected him. He was none too phased by being brushed off, he half expected it. He turned away from Wrathion and walking off. “I’m retiring to my study since your disappearing act put the kibosh on Moroes’ plans.”

Wrathion watched Medivh leave before looking around at his surroundings. He followed after the Magus but kept himself at a distance. Though he could only see Medivh’s back he could feel that the mage was probably smiling to himself. “I might as well head back too.”

“Do as you wish.”

-o-o-o-

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Medivh had busied himself with his star charts and other little projects that he’d been working on. Wrathion took to reading, writing in his journal, and watching Medivh work from a safe distance. Lunch was missed due to Wrathion being missing but dinner was had up in the study. With dinner came the announcement that they were to go back onto schedule the next day. Wrathion didn’t take too kindly to this news but Moroes didn’t care.

Medivh was getting ready for bed as Wrathion complained at the Castellan. He had dressed himself in his nightclothes and cleaned his teeth. He sat on his couch and took a brush to his hair, watching the tail end of their argument.

With a huff, Moroes turned around and made his leave for the night. Wrathion threw himself onto a large pile of pillows that was set up in Medivh’s reading corner. The dragon prince had claimed it as his bed, balking at the idea of using a cot. It was certainly comfortable enough, that much Medivh knew from his own nights falling asleep there.

“I can’t believe he insists on this stupid schedule thing!” Wrathion scoffed. “And why are  _ you _ okay with it? It’s a waste of time! You’re the Guardian, why would you ever need dancing practice or posture training?”

“My father was a nobleman, the court conjurer of Stormwind.” Medivh said as he set his brush down on a table next to his couch. He then worked on braiding his own hair as it made it more manageable in the mornings. “Training for court, in etiquette, society, and politics was a part of my life as much as magic was. Given why I was born, I couldn’t follow in his footsteps but through him, I was a noble as well.”

Wrathion was quiet as he processed this information. This was new, it hadn’t been mentioned in any of the material he had read. Wrathion had read on Medivh being the guardian, being corrupted and his connection to Khadgar. There was little to nothing about his personal life, then again, Wrathion didn’t really look for such things either. He barely listened to Khadgar’s chatter of his former mentor. With how his eyes would light up and how he sounded almost giddy, one would’ve thought the Archmage was in love.

“You’re a Stormwind noble?” Wrathion asked, his interest peaked. While he wasn’t really one for mortal politics, Stormwind was always of interest. He had a few of his Blacktalon agents always stationed there to keep an eye on a certain boy-king.

“ _ Was _ . I’m ‘dead’ now, remember?” Medivh corrected him. He finished braiding his had and lied down on his couch, pulling up his blankets to cover himself. “Look at it this way, you claim yourself a prince so consider this proper prince training.”

Wrathion frowned and made a face at that answer. He still thought it was just a bunch of nonsense. But the idea of being on his own didn’t appeal to him much either. Perhaps he could have some of his blacktalon agents around but he needed them out in the world for information. There was no telling what Karazhan’s Tower would do to them either. Wrathion’s safest bet would be to stick close Medivh as he knew the tower and her tricks the best. For better or for worse, he was going to need to rely on the Magus.

Wrathion’s thoughts continued to wander in the silence between them. Back to how Karazahan whisked him away and what it had shown him. Remembered the voice of the younger Medivh and how distraught he sounded. It stirred something in Wrathion though he couldn’t (or maybe wouldn’t) place his finger onto why.

“Why did you become the Guardian?” he finally asked.

Medivh blinked and turned his head to look at him. He was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful as if debating to give an answer or not. “I had no choice in the matter. I was born to take up the role, as simple as that.”

Wrathion didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like that this sad, broken man was similar to himself. They were both people who had no choice in their roles, decisions having been made for them before they were born. Perhaps that was why Wrathion felt so much frustration with Medivh. It was like getting a peek into the future. Medivh was one who fell to corruption and as much as Wrathion wanted to deny it, he was just as much at risk. He had to wonder if he too would look as worn down and haunted as Medivh one day.

“It’s time for bed.” Medivh said, ending the conversation there. “If you insist on staying up then feel free to entertain yourself downstairs.” Medivh then gave a long yawn before continuing. “Just keep in mind you’ll be in for an early morning tomorrow.”

Manawyrms were beginning to gather around him and settle themselves with him on the couch. Medivh’s ravens were also prepping and preening themselves for a night’s rest. It felt like the entire study was winding down for the night with its master. From the large scale model of the planets slowing down to the lights in the room dimming. The only lights that remained were the model of the stars that were splayed out along the study’s ceiling. Those would stay since Medivh often found solace in them.

Wrathion tried to settle down and push all the questions and thoughts swirling in his head aside. He tried to focus on the dancing stars above and waited for sleep. He was different, it was as simple as that. Medivh was a human, weak-willed with a short and fragile life. Wrathion was a dragon, he was more suited for his task.

He could only hope that was true.

- **End of Chapter 2** -


End file.
